Z Me
by Vinvy
Summary: The Graverobber is hoping to find a quiet place to crash for the night... he is sorely disappointed.  Rated T for language, suggestive themes, and questionable morals .


Repo! The Genetic Opera Fanfics and Cosplay Skits!

"Score!"

The Graverobber bounded over to the couch and laid down contentedly- it wasn't every day one came across a forgotten sofa in an alleyway full of dumpsters! So, what if it did have a few unidentifiable stains and smelled a bit off? It was the closest thing to a bed he'd come across in quite some time.

With the Largo regime in chaos, the GENEcops had stepped up their game, locking up his clients left and right. They were no longer able to be bribed and corrupted which meant he'd been put on the run. He hadn't slept in anything like a motel in weeks nor had he had a decent meal in even longer. At this point, the drug dealer was taking every break he could get.

He took a deep breath and half smiled. He found the stench of garbage comforting, having become so familiar with it in recent months. He shrugged off his coat, balling the leather-and-fur monstrosity up to use as a pillow along with his knapsack. Though it was a rather grand find, the couch had definitely seen fluffier days.

When a body whose shape he knew by heart threw itself onto him he came within inches of committing his first (intentional) murder. The only thing that held him back was the want to not sleep in a pool of Amber Sweet's disgusting blood. Sighing in frustration at his own self control, he laid a hand on her thigh out of reflex, gently stroking it.

"Hello," she cooed, looking up at him with false adoration and arching her back to give a prime view of her already-prominent breasts.

"Well, hello there. What can I do for you this fine evening?"

Amber continued to cling to him as he sat up, mistaking his growl of irritation for something else entirely. "Z me," she implored.

"What's the magic word?"

She replied in the same sugary tone without a moments' hesitation. "Now?"

"No," he replied in a patient, equally sweet tone.

She persisted. "Now."

She thought he was only teasing! Oh what fun this could be after all! "Nope."

"Now, Graverobber!"

He chuckled at her desperation, toying with a glowing vial of Zydrate in the hand farthest from the scalpel slut. It was amazing the effect the painkiller had on those addicted- its glow seemed to symbolize life to them. Some reacted to its potential loss with quiet self pity and depression. Others, like the scantily-clad woman before him, fought tooth and nail for it. He idly wondered how far he could push her.

"That's not the magic word where I grew up, Amber, darling."

She snarled and lunged for the vial. He'd anticipated her violence and easily pushed her to the concrete below, tucking the precious Zydrate into his pocket. Anger rolled from Miss Sweet in waves and the drug dealer had to gnaw on the inside of his cheek to keep from giggling. Suddenly, she jumped on him.

"_So you think you got heart? So you think you got balls?"_ Amber accented the second phrase by grabbing his crotch- but for some reason not too violently. _"So you think Mag can sing?"_

He began to laugh, almost uncontrollably. _"I don't think nothin' at all!"_

She glared back with more venom than such a spoiled pusher should be capable of. "_So you think Mag's got pipes? Well its MY turn to shine! When the Repo Man strikes-"_

He raised a hand to silence her, "Are you so sure about that?"

Amber opened her mouth to snap back then shut it again with a sharp click. The Graverobber knew exactly what was going through her head. If the Repo Man came after him, her favourite, best, and only remaining source of quality Z, she wouldn't be able to get any more Z. Not having Z was bad. And bad was not good.

"Screw you!" The diva whipped up her middle fingers in the centuries' old gesture that matched the phrase.

Again the urchin laughed boisterously. "Where, when, how hard, and do you want to snuggle after?"

Amber instantly straddled him, punctuating each word with a roll of her hips. "Here. Now. Very hard. And only- I repeat only- if you Z me."

He quirked up an eyebrow and flashed her a sly grin. The poor dear was so desperate- how could he not help her out? Besides, this could count as his good deed for the day.

After a few seconds of consideration more, he slipped the glass vial out of his pocket and pushed it into the bustier she wore…


End file.
